Panzerkampfwagen
by KillJoy-Soviet1
Summary: After the win for Oorai a year ago, a Patrick Kennedy, a highschool student at Barrie North in Canada dreams of tanking. One problem is, that he is male. That's quickly remided when Oorai allows a group of boys to join their team, and Barrie follows suite. "Are we sure about this...? Are we?" "Hell yeah we are. Panzer vor!"


"Talking"

'Thinking'

"_Stressed Words_"

'_Written Words_'

"_Other Languages_"

**~Radio Chatter~**

**AN: Well, I found Girls und Panzer in September of 2013; and now this. Goddamn muse. I own only the OCs. **

Chapter One: Meet the Engineer

Thunder sounded, and I awoke with a start. Just a dream, just a dream… And then my alarm clock went off, the sound of a Ju87 Stuka's siren, scaring me and causing me to scream and roll out of bed onto my floor.

"Sunovabitch!" I muttered as I cradled my now damaged noggin', pain shooting through as I stood up with the help of my bed. I glared blearily into the mirror which hung upon my wall, my reflection glaring back. I had an angular face, where my cheekbones were pronounced, and my eyes were slightly sunk into the back of my head, giving me an eerie look. The colour of said eyes was a light teal; and my friends, what little I had, made jokes about it. My hair was slightly unkept, minding I had just got out of bed, while the sides were shaven short, and was a dusty brown, akin to wet sand.

I hobbled my way out of my room, heading for the shower, passing many WWII-era tank models on my way by. My room was full to the brim with memorabilia, such as the Panzerkampfwagen VI 'Tiger I'; Self-Propelled Guns such as the STuG III and Sexton II; Tank Destroyers like the Marder 38T, Hetzer, and .IVc, or the 'Flakbus' as my friends call it; and a multitude of Shermans, T-34s, IS-2s, and Panzer IVs.

I past the kitchen and dining room, and entered the bathroom, spending a good twenty minutes in the shower, before I slipped out and into my room for a change of clothes. A burnt orange dress shirt overtop of a white tee, with a pair of blue jeans and white socks. I combed my hair back, and brushed my teeth before grabbing the lunch my mum made prior that morning, before tearing out the door for the train to high school. I lived in Canada, in a small hamlet called Minesing, which was a half hour ride from any high school, which were in Barrie.

While on the train, I passed a decent amount of houses on said route to said town, and my thoughts were interrupted by my friend Alekzander Overnotch, a weird teen, with forest green hair and steel grey eyes that bore a certain kindness. He was an all-around joker, and tended to get high grades and hunted for girlfriends.

"Yo Patchy!" He whistled as he slid onto my seat next to me, "How was the weekend brotha'?"

He usually referred to me as 'Patchy' or 'Patch' rather than my real name, Patrick Kennedy, and I referred to him as 'Zander' or 'Alek' rather than our real names; it was something we did.

"Nothing much Zander," I muttered, gripping my bookbag tightly, "Just played some World of Tanks and wrote stories."

He shrugged, "Why not see your girlfriend?"

"Vanessa's on that exchange to Pravda High School on that exchange thing, remember?"

"Oh yeah…"

I chuckled, before growing somber at the thought that my 'Nessa was on some aircraft carrier/high school with Russians. I heard something, and I turned my head back to Alek as I thought he had said something while I was thinking.

"Hm?"

"I said, 'Didja know that they're starting to allow guys into _sensha_-_dō_ now?'"

I was flabbergasted, "What!?"

_Sensha_-_dō_, or 'The way of the tank', was a sport utilizing World War II-era tanks, tank destroyers, and sometimes SPGs. Only females are allowed in; whilst the tanks and ammunition is a technological achievement; the ammo called 'Simunition'; which carries a sensor that shows where the shell will penetrate or not on a tank; and the tanks having a special carbon coating so the shells won't penetrate, which recognizes if a tank is knocked out or not. It is a major sports league, with high schools such a Pravda, Saunders and Anzio partaking in said games. These schools were literally cities on aircraft carriers, stopping in port only once and a while to restock. They hold regional championships, along with internationals every year, and last year, some unknown school called "Ōarai Prefectural Girls High School" won, surprising many.

The high school I go to, Ontario Freedom High, or Freedom, had a tankery elective, as it was a course in high schools, but only for females. I was a member of the automotive club, so I've handled my way around their tanks before, and have modified them slightly; and our school was equipped with fifteen Grizzly I tanks, four Sexton II self-propelled guns, and one M10 Wolverine with the turret covered, as per tournament rules. I've worked on all of these, seeing how the Auto Club was in charge for repairs, upgrades, and ammo loading; and I've written up schematics for a tank variant of my own as well, codename: the "Guzzler".

"Really?" I asked, quite happy, "Open to guys?"

"Yup! Apparently last year's champions were the ones who pushed for it, and they've already got a male tank; a KV-1 from Pravda, and a surplus M4A3E8 from Saunders for anyone else." Alek answered, "And we're going to be the second school to do it!"

I whistled at the thought, it was my dream to become a _sensha_-_dō_ fighter. I've worked on enough tanks to know how to use all the spots, and I was considered a jack-of-all-trades by our team captain, Maria Keys.

"I'm joining." I said in a confident voice as we exited the bus.

"Doesn't surprise me," Alek stated with a chuckle, "You've wanted to drive tanks since your mum brought us to that one _sensha_-_dō_ match when we were ten. Truth be told, so have I."

I chuckled, "Well we've got two tankers, now we need three more." A thought popped into my mind. "What about the Founders?" I asked.

"The Founders?" Alek asked, amazed, "You're friends with them?"

The Founders, or the Burned Man, Bill and Caesar were a group of three history buffs, but only one wore armored plating on their shoulders and legs, for some odd reason, and were 'reincarnated souls', as they called themselves. The Burned Man, Joshua Graham, was basically a 50s' Greaser, and if he saw a fight, would break it up swiftly and painfully to both sides. Bill, or William Calhoun, was the soothsayer of the trio, always treating others with the utmost respect and never underestimated anyone when he played against them in chess, as he was a strategist. And finally, Caesar, who was known as Edward Sallow; who was the eldest of the trio and the wisest out of the three of them. I had met them while they were discussing about plans for an online game, World of Tanks, which I also played.

When I had interrupted them, Joshua immediately threatened to break my nose, while Bill had greeted me kindly. Edward viewed me as a lost soul, calling me '_Herr_ Otto Carius', and had remained to call me that every time I see him. I found out later that Carius was a German tank ace from WWII, with over one hundred and fifty kills. I thanked Caesar later that day, to which he replied '"Why thank me when I just caused you to remember who you are?"' and left it at that.

"Aye, I'm friends with them," I muttered as we entered our first period class, "I play WoT with them. We get along."

Alekzander shrugged as we took our seats, and waited for the national anthem.

~ **Patrick Kennedy, Class VIII, second year; please report to the Guidance Council. Patrick Kennedy, Class VIII, second year; please report to the Guidance Council. That is all, thank you. **~ The PA rang, during our second class.

I furrowed my brow at this, what had I done this time? Standing up, I collected my bag and waved bye to the teacher and Alek as I made my way down the hall. Passing by the office, I quietly entered the Guidance Council and greeted the secretary.

"Hello, I was called down here?" I asked quietly, gripping my bags shoulder strap.

"Yes you were."

I turned around at the voice, my eyesight greeting me with three girls, the Student President, the Treasurer and the Public Relations President, Alexandretta Fairway, Helen Tourney, and Samantha Abigail respectively.

Alexandretta, or 'Alex', stood at 5'9, and was very well endowed, with strawberry blonde hair and magenta colored eyes. She wore a dress shirt which was unbuttoned at the top so some of her cleavage showed and a short skirt which reached halfway down her thighs.

Helen stood slightly shorter, at 5'8, was flat chested, and had short, bunned blonde hair, her bangs covering her electric blue eyes and glasses. She wore a secretary's outfit, and usually held a clipboard in her left hand.

Samantha Abigail, or 'Sam', was the same height as Alexandretta, and had her hair dyed a purple-red color, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her sea-green eyes peered back at me from behind her aviators. She wore an all-leather outfit, a black leather jacket which was done up, and black leather pants which did nothing to hide her curves. She was also the most endowed out of them, as she often flirted that they were E's.

"Patchy~" She cooed, before flinging herself onto me, smothering me in her valley. "It's been so long!~"

I flailed around, while Helen yelled at Sam. "Let go of him Samantha! It's indecent! And he can't breathe between those monster tits of yours!" She finished, grabbing my waist and trying to pull me away from the 'Hug of Pleasant Death' as most guys called it.

Sam huffed at this, "Just because mine are bigger doesn't mean you have to get jealous of me '_Flache_ _Brust_'~" She mocked.

"WHADDA YA CALL ME COWTITS!?"

At this point, I managed to escape from death, and gasped for breath as I crouched on the floor. Alex stood me up and dusted me off, before smacking Sam and Helen across the back of their heads. "Calm yourselves ladies, we're here to talk with Patrick about his electives, remember? Now," She sat me down, "I heard you're good around tanks, is this true?"

"Ahm, well yeah," I stated calmly, "I'm in the_ PKW Klub_, and I've worked on the M4s all first year. Maria even wants me to join the _sensha_-_dō_ club, saying I had the skills they needed…" I scratched the back of my head nervously. At this point, Helen had procured a large stack of paper, and placed it in front of me. On each were signatures of the whole tankery club, stating on why I should be allowed in if men were allowed to join _sensha_-_dō_.

"This was filled throughout the course of your first year." Sam began, with a serious face on, "And when men were starting to be allowed in, Maria Keys thought she'd add twenty more of these… 'Recommendations' to the pile."

I blanched, "They really want me to play with them, huh?"

Helen, Sam and Alex nodded. "Yup."

I ran my hand through my hair, and whistled. "So where do I sing up?"

"Really?"

"Yup, I got conscripted into _sensha_-_dō_," I said, beaming happily, as I had my lunch with Alekzander and Bill. "Apparently, Maria and the rest of the team had written up recommends for me since the beginning of last year! So, I'm officially signed up for _sensha_-_dō_ as my elective!"

"Lucky." Bill muttered as he took a sip from the soda he was carrying. He wore a basic tunic, wrapped around his chest, and a pair of blue jeans; his dark brown hair cascaded over his hazel eyes, which were usually filled with mirth. As mentioned, armor plating was strapped to his shoulders and triceps in leather binds, and a swords scabbard hung at his waist.

The three of us were sitting in the cafeteria, eating lunch.

"Yeah man!" Alek proclaimed, "You're gonna' be surrounded by hot chicks, and tanks!" He hugged me. "My younger brother is growing up!~"

I slapped him, "Geroff. You need to sign up too Alek; which reminds me _Amicus_," I said, turning on him, "I was wondering if you, Joshua and Caesar wish to join me?"

A monotone voice sounded from behind me. "Sure thing Carius."

I turned to see Joshua and Edward standing behind us, wearing their usual getup: tunic covered tops, and jeans for Edward, and Joshua in a leather jacket. Joshua glared at me, in annoyance, with his purple eyes, while his hair, light silver, was gelled back off his face. Edward had his hair shaved off, and wore olive leaves around his head, while kind blue eyes twinkled at me.

"Cool," I said, "Meet me after school at the tank field, alright?" I asked, high fiving them.

"No worries Carius, we'll be there." Edward stated as he, Bill and Josh walked past to their next period class.

I grinned at Alek, before taking a sip of pop. "Now all we need is a tank." I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. "… And I know just where to find one…"

The tankery field at our school was quite large, one and a half kilometers in fact, and was situated behind the school, with a large brick hanger attached to said school. The field was rocky and forested, with some level, open plains for combat training. Rivers ran rampant throughout the field, and some ran into cliffs and such. It was here, that the _sensha_-_dō_ team was training when I showed up; Grizzlies doing training maneuvers, the Sextons practicing with loading speed, and the M10 seemed to be broken down again, as it was sitting near the hanger, the turret having been hoisted of with our team's crane.

The M10 Wolverine that we had was prone to breaking down, due to the fact that this thing was a standing relic from WWII, and its transmission and engine were severely outdated; this lead to faulty starts, the engine overheating, and/or not being able to go top speed, which was 51 km/h. I had worked on this thing for ages, and it only was slightly improved. It was drove by Maria Keys team, and the driver, Alli, only used around 25% of its engine to make sure it doesn't overload.

I walked up to said tank, and grabbed a wrench from the toolbox, before rolling underneath the chassis and opening up the transmission. The gears were all flaked and rusted, and a twig was jammed in it so it couldn't move.

"Yo!" I yelled from underneath, "What's the problem Alli?"

A head popped out of the bottom hatch, and spoke, "Engine cut out, the turret won't traverse properly, and the tranny's broke." This was Alli. She was short, erm, short_er_ than the rest of the schools tankers, standing only at 5'3. She had bobbed, neon green dyed hair, and wore a pair of goggles over her cobalt eyes, which always stared intently at everything. She wore the schools tanker uniform, which was designed after the Canada's Tanker uniform from WWII, although anyone could modify this uniform to their needs. Hers was freaking neon rainbow colored.

"And I love it!"

"What?" I asked, falling out of my inner musings.

"I love the color of my uniform, so what."

"How'd you…? Nevermind," I shook my head, there's no way she could read thoughts. "I'll get to work on the transmission and engine right now then. I keep telling you people to buy newer ones, but no! 'WE can't modify our tanks to accept German made engines; WE can't upgrade our Grizzly's gun from a 76mm to a British 17 pounder, it's hard to do!' I can do all of that, in an hour!"

"What're you raging about this time Carius?"

I sighed, only one other person other than Caesar called me that, and it was Maria; mostly because she overheard Caesar calling me that and stuck to it.

"Hello Miss Keys." I stated as I ripped the twig out of the transmission, cleaning out the rust shavings afterwards. "How're you?"

Maria was normal-sized; I often joked, around 5'9, and had strawberry red hair that was usually cut at the shoulders to prevent any harm. Her steel grey eyes were laughing at me (No matter how weird that sounds…), and she had her arms crossed underneath her bust while she was leaning under the tank to see me.

"I'm good Carius, how're you?" She asked, wiping soot (She was always covered in the stuff) off her face.

"Well," I drawled, sliding out from underneath the tank and standing up, "I finished cleaning out the transmission, and now I'm gonna' start on the engine, see if I can get her rusted butt up to thirty-two km/h instead of thirty-one… However, if you let me put in that Maybach HL 120 TRM that's sitting in the hanger alone into the M10, I'd be happier and this babe won't break as much anymore."

Maria sighed; we go over this every time we talk really. I really want to upgrade stuff, she says no.

"I've said this before Patrick, and I'll say it again: You can't mod our tanks because you're not on the team. That'd be cheating."

I grinned, before whipping out my class courses sheet from my pocket. "Oh really?" I asked smugly, "How about now?"

She stopped, and turned around to see my 'I want in a tank, let me rape stuff please!' face. Yes, I have one of those.

"What is that?"

"Class course sheet."

"And?"

"I'm in."

At that, everyone stopped en masse. The repair crew, the fueling and ammo crew, hell, even the tanks doing practice stopped. Maria dropped the paper and fell on her knees, tears forming in her eyes. "Really?" I nodded, and the crack of guns sounded as the Grizzlies fired their 76mm guns in victory. I turned to stare at the crews, and waved as the all began to drive their Grizzlies back to the hanger. I turned to Maria and chuckled as she was kneeled in a prayers position, praising the deities she believed in.

I grabbed her hand and picked her up, before pointing to the M10. "Let's get that Maybach in."

It took over an hour for the Maybach to be put into the Wolverine, as we had to replace the transmission with the Maybachs as well, and by the time we were done, the sun was setting and school was over. The M10 preformed like a beauty, and I was happier beyond belief. I was currently sitting on the Monorail back home to Minesing, and I was flicking a Zippo lighter silently. The day had ended with me, Alek, Bill, Josh and Ed meeting up, and talking with Maria about the five of us in a tank. She replied that there were no extra tanks, and that we needed to buy our own. So here we were, on the Monorail to Minesing, silent.

"So Patchy," Alek began, "where are we going to get this tank?" He asked, the Founders leaning in as well.

I smiled, "My grandpa's shop. He owns a repair place in Minesing, and you can find just about anything there. Tanks, modules, equipment, cars, planes, SPGs, TDs et cetera. Out back there's an old Soviet KV-2 sitting in the basement, rusted to the shits, but the Old Man and I have been pining to restore it!"

"You do realize that everything'll be in Russian, right?" Joshua asked, combing his hair back.

"And will that fit all of us?" Bill asked as well.

"Mhm," I nodded, "It'll fit us."

"152mm cannon on it?" Alek asked calmly, to which I nodded.

"Yup. Either we use that, or some of the junk lying around or makeshift something for training until the school can afford a new Grizzly I or a Ram II." I replied with a shrug, as the train slowed to a stop. "Come on, let's go see Gramps."

The walk to Patricks' grandfather's repair shop was a short one, as he lived right by the rails. The shop was a large steel hanger, and had a large neon sign over top of it, while off to the left was a small house, where he and Grams lived. The group of five quickly entered the shop through the personal doors, and was greeted by Patricks' grandfather. At 90 years old, he was rather spry and agile for an old man, as he was jumping and running around the shop with a large crate of tools and appeared to be working on a 1969 Dodge Charger R/T.

"Heya Gramps!" Patrick yelled as they entered, throwing his bag down on the ground next to the door, "What's up?"

Gramps looked up from his work, his salt white hair clinging to his wrinkled face due to the heat of the shop, while he wiped some away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

"Hey Paddy!" he called, waving them over to the Charger, speaking in an Irish accent, "What's up me boy?"

"Nothing much Gramps," he began, drawling out his grandfathers' nickname, "I managed to get into tankery as my elective, so we're here looking for a tank to fix up to drive in."

"Ah!" Gramps murmured to himself, "I believe I've got just the thing. Come along children."

He quickly walked out the back of the shop with the quintet in tow, and the group was greeted with the 'Graveyard'. Piles of rusted, bent-up car, plane and tank parts littered the back, along with gutted scraps that we indescribable. Gramps hobbled his way to the back, where a tarp covered a mass of something. Yanking the tarp off, the quintet gaped at the tank that was revealed.

"Is that a…" Patrick began.

Alekzander strode up to the tank, before caressing it. "Mou~, a Panzerkampfwagen IV Ausf. J Schmalturm~" he purred, stroking his head along the tank's chassis, getting rust and dirt on his face.

Patrick walked up to the Panzer IV, inspecting it. "Treads are gone, along with most of the suspension," he muttered, climbing onto the schmalturm, "We'll need to get some side skirts along with the treads and suspension. The 75mm L/70 cannon is obviously warped and will need to be replaced, probably something more powerful like the 88mm L/56 cannon maybe."

Opening up the commander's hatch on the top of the turret, Patrick winced at the smell, before speaking once more. "Whew… We'll need to get rid of anything inside, as this is all just mold, rust and dead carcasses in here… We have got a lot of work to do guys."

The other four nodded, climbing up onto the Panzer IV, also inspecting it. There were multiple reactions, as both Alek and Bill admired the design and the torsion bar suspension, while Caesar inspected the warped 75mm cannon. Joshua stood off to the side with Gramps before asking a question to everyone.

"How in the hell, are we gonna' get this heap of scrap to school?"

Everyone froze, before turning to Joshua.

"Shit."

**The end! Read, review, criticism is wished for. Thank you! **


End file.
